When it comes to our front yard, my children have taken the lead in cultivating what can only be described as a bog garden filled with carnivorous plants. With a variety of pitcher plants, including Venus flytraps and sundews, they thrive in pots that line our front yard, soaking up the sunlight. In the grand scheme of lawn care and yard maintenance, our bog garden shouts, “Sorry, neighbors. We’re too busy living life to care!”
Our yard features a permanent brown patch courtesy of the kids’ Fisher-Price roller coaster, while mismatched toys and sports equipment accumulate in the pine straw, mossy and lodged like forgotten treasures. Lightsabers lie scattered along the pathway, weaving through overturned ride-on toys, and the grass grows wild between them. Our rosebushes have taken on a life of their own, reaching out to snag us as we enter and exit the car.
From time to time, the mail carrier reminds us to free the mailbox from the clutches of the bushes, and my husband valiantly manages to do so, but nature has other plans. Our rosemary plants, once harmless additions, have morphed into fragrant beasts that seem to deter even the most determined postal workers.
A neighbor asked if we were running a daycare due to the toy explosion in our front yard, but the truth is, we simply don’t mind the chaos. Dandelions grow high amidst the toys, and our fence obscures them until they reach impressive heights. Occasionally, our overgrown bushes have even led to accusations that no one lives here, based solely on the wildness of our yard.
I do feel a slight twinge of guilt. After all, maintaining a pristine lawn is considered a quintessential part of American life. My neighbors have meticulously crafted their own verdant paradises, complete with riding mowers that seem far too large for the job at hand. They mow, fertilize, and protect their grass like precious jewels, ensuring no child dares to tread on their well-tended lawns.
In stark contrast, my backyard resembles an untamed jungle, with rabbit trails worn into the underbrush for our dogs’ preferred spots to do their business. Years of fallen leaves have accumulated in flower beds now overrun with weeds, while rogue raspberry bushes sprout up thanks to birds dropping seeds after indulging in our once-plentiful berry supply. There’s even a designated dirt patch for the kids to dig in—yes, we embrace the mess!
We initially bought our home with visions of pristine lawns, but soon realized we couldn’t keep up the facade. To deter prying eyes, we erected a privacy fence, hoping to shield ourselves from judgment while we navigated the challenges of parenthood. Our attempts at gardening were thwarted by failed rose experiments and wilting azaleas, but adding kids to the mix was the final straw.
Kids are adorable, but they are also relentless time thieves. I don’t mow the lawn; my husband does—yet when he’s home on weekends, I want his help with the children, not to be left alone for yard work. Consequently, our lawn sees little to no mowing, and our backyard has become a jungle where a machete might be necessary just to get through some areas.
Our power company even complained, prompting us to chop down emerging trees for electrical access. Chainsaw work is definitely not child-friendly, and general cleanup tasks can’t be accomplished with kids around. The front yard, at least, has some manner of grass that doesn’t grow knee-high—thanks to the dandelions, of course. They intertwine with the scattered toys, broken pots, and our beloved bog garden, which remains our only point of pride.
It’s likely we’re lowering property values and earning the title of neighborhood misfits. I sometimes dream that a neighbor will offer to hire a lawn service to restore our yard to its former glory—a service we can’t afford, of course. It’s one of those fantasies, much like my elusive weed whacker.
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In summary, while our yard may not fit the traditional mold of perfection, it embodies the joys of family life and the beautiful chaos that comes with it.
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